


With Single Mind

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Mind Control, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: Hux is careening toward ruin. He allows Ren to pull him back.





	With Single Mind

**Author's Note:**

> hux_you_up tweeted:  
>  _a fic about consensual mind control, a fic about consensual mind control, my kingdom for a fic about consensual mind control_

Hux was drawn, pale and purpled like the living dead.

In the weeks that had crawled by since returning to the _Finalizer_ , Kylo watched the General’s steady deterioration. His hair thinned, plastered flat to his shapely skull—so often cradled in Kylo’s hands before the fall of _Starkiller_ —with too much pomade. His skin appeared waxy, shining in the lights of the ship. His shoulders were hitched high under the greatcoat, hands clenched into fists when a vapor-cig wasn’t clenched between his teeth.

Hux took a drag on the thing then, the plasto mouthpiece clicking against his teeth. He rolled his jaw, eyes hard on the display in front of him, and emptied his chest slowly. The tabac-scented haze floated lazily around his shoulders and made the lights display screen disperse in a fuzzy arc.

“I want to know the _second_ the acting Senate opens. I want their audio systems hacked and the feed relayed directly to the war-room.”

“Yes, sir!” The tech at his elbow snapped straight and strode away, a gaggle of lower-level techs following them like pelikkilings after their mother.

Hux moved away from the work console and settled himself at the head of the bridge, staring out over the crew and the realspace beyond the viewport unseeingly. His mind—always ticking, franticly bounding three steps ahead and two to the side—was awash with static and the squeak of his own grinding teeth.

“General,” Kylo murmured, stepping up beside him. It was still strange to hear his own voice in that space, unchanged by a modulator.

“Ren.”

“I have… I have _concerns_ that I would like to bring to your attention.”

“Careful, Ren.” Hux folded an arm across his middle and balanced the opposite elbow, vapor-cig gripped tight in his hand, mouthpiece rested against his chin. The amber-colored liquid in the cartridge was running low, it would be finished by the end of alpha-sift if Hux continued to puff at the rate he was. “You may be the Supreme Leader’s favorite pet, but _I_ am still the First Order’s most respected General.” The static of his thoughts intensified, the wavelengths aligning into a deafening screech. His nostrils flared and his lips quivered. “I will not stand for insubordination on my bridge. Even if I must keep up this charade of co-commandership. I will not have you undermine me, Ren.”

“I’ve no wish to undermine you, General.” Kylo dropped his voice to a low whisper, leaning in fractions closer. “I’m only concerned. For you. For the Order.”

Hux bit down hard on the mouthpiece of the vapor-cig. “I _am_ the Order,” he spat through clenched teeth, spittle flying along with the cloud of tabac vapor. He pursed his lips and dropped the vapor-cig into the deep pocket in the lining of the greatcoat. A notification flashed on the command console in front of him. He took even breaths, tapping a response in. “If you insist on elaborating on your concerns, then you may request a meeting in my office during delta shift.”

Kylo pressed his lips into a hard line and held his tongue. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

 

***

 

Hux was frightening in the glow of the workstation in his office. Kylo strode through the door when it slid aside, not at all surprised that it did so without prompting.

“Security feed,” Hux murmured in confirmation of an unasked question.

Kylo stood for a moment, looming while Hux tapped furiously at the touch-screen. He looked as if on the edge of fugue, hyperfocused on whatever task was in front of him. Kylo reached out, swimming through the static threads of his thoughts and urged him away from the screens.

Hux’s fingers curled into tight fists, trembling as they hovered there in the air. His shoulders tensed and his expression scrunched into pained dissatisfaction. “Stop it,” he hissed.

“ _Hux—_ “

“Ren.” He hunched forward, breathing loudly in his determination to resist compulsion. “This is urgent communication and I _will not_ subject myself your master’s wrath if this maneuver _fails_.” Breath left his chest in a rush and he nearly toppled, released suddenly from the pressure of the Force around him. He righted himself swiftly, shaking off the indignity of it. “Stay inside your of pfassking head, you nerf-loving _shit_.”

Kylo bit his tongue, both figuratively and literally, tamping down the insult that flared in his gut before answering. “You’re driving yourself to ruin.”

Hux balled his hand into a tight fist, bringing it down toward the screens of his workstation and stopping just a hairs breadth from hitting the touch-sensitive transparisteel. “I am trying to navigate a war in which we are _inexplicably losing_.” The static in his head organized itself just long enough to whip together a hazy memory of dust-covered girl in interrogation—a glowing trooper file on a datapad—a Resistance General making an impassioned plea to the Senate, broadcast over the holonet. He finally looked Kylo in the eye, his expression frustrated and deadened at once. “What would you have me do, Ren? I don’t plan on rotting in a Republican cell—they won’t be kind enough to execute me.” He paused, shifting into a more resolute bearing. “It’s all or nothing.”

“You need to _sleep_. And to eat. How can you expect _everything_ when you are attempting to defy the laws of biology and logic?”

“Again, I ask: what would you have me do?” He ran his hands through his hair, breaking up the product with ill-kempt fingernails. He took a breath, eyes closed. “Wait in my quarters. I need to finish this. I’ll be there momentarily.”

 

***

 

Hux could feel himself slipping, moment to moment; his control running through his fingers like so much sand on Force-forsaken Jakku. There were some of those moments in which he yearned to give it up entirely. In which, he fantasized about what it might be like to simply walk away from the bridge—what might happen if he commandeered Ren’s shuttle for himself and took off to parts unknown. He could return to the Outer Rim, go back to Arkanis—perhaps Najiba. With its electrical storms it would be near impossible to get a Resistance craft in to recapture him, at least one piloted by someone who wasn’t a native, who didn’t understand the atmo or how to navigate the asteroid field within the planet’s orbit. From there he might watch the galaxy burn.

Hux, Emperor of Ashes.

Let them all kill each other. Simply be finished with it.

As a sometimes bedfellow, Kylo Ren’s concern was both oddly satisfying and utterly disgusting. It was strange to have another being express any investment in him beyond the value he might bring to the Order.

Hux locked his terminal and set the outer door to _do not disturb_ before retreating to the inner sanctuary of his quarters. As General, he had the only accommodations aboard the ship with a real bed rather than a bunk. The small kitchen had fallen completely to disuse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent more than the five minutes in the full ‘fresher to clean his teeth and set his hair into order at the beginning of his command shifts. Showers with real water had disappeared from his life in favor of rationing, his skin often raw from the vibrations of the sonic.

Ren sat on the edge of the bed, his elegantly outsized features lit softly by the reflection off of the moon of the nearest system through the viewport. Hux watched him for a moment, envying him for the easy way he floated through the fabric of things.

Ren was both an immovable object and an unstoppable force.

At times, Hux wanted to ring his neck for it. Especially when his ship suffered for it—or maps were lost, prisoners escaped…

Those were things he’d taken steps to control, learning from the mistake of trusting in anyone else’s command capabilities aside from his own.

Still, Ren was a thing that Hux both wanted to be rid of and to possess.

Ren shifted under Hux’s gaze. “Say what you must and leave. I still have business to attend to.”

“You _will_ wind up in a Republican cell if you continue on this path, Hux. That, or at the end of my blade. I shudder to think what the Supreme Leader will wish when the failures of _the Order_ begin mounting.” Hux barely flinched at the dig. “You desire too much for control, that is why you are losing it.”

“And who am I meant to give control over to? You?”

“Perhaps.”

Hux’s skin flushed with heat and color beneath his uniform and it flared in his cheeks to his hairline. “I will _never_ give you this ship—or my men—I will never give you, or Snoke, the Order.”

Ren closed his eyes and pursed his lips, ruminating over the barbs on Hux’s tongue. His own slid out and slowly ran over his bottom lip. “I don’t want that. I’m not talking about anything so grand.” For his part, Hux was mortified at he’d just allowed out into the open air. He assigned another tally into the column of reasons to flee of Najiba. “I am talking about control of yourself.”

Hux nearly laughed. “What are you dreaming up? That I’ll fall on my knees for you? That I’ve seen the light and have some sudden desire to be your willing slave? Oh, Master Ren,” he mocked, “what will you allow me to do for you first?”

He crossed the space to the bedside console and retrieved a fresh cartridge for his vapor-cig. He’s turning around slowly in place, squinting at the room at large in attempt to remember where he’d put the damn thing down when Ren speaks.

“Put that away.”

“Excuse me?”

“Put it away,” Ren repeated softly, something discomfitingly sincere in his expression.

Hux glared, weighing the thing in his hand and contemplating the force he might need to do any kind of damage in lobbing it directly at Ren’s face. Ren looked at Hux, his gaze like a weight and expression weary. Hux dropped the cartridge back into the console and took a breath that filled his chest and made his shoulders shift.

“What now Ren?” he asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.

“The flexies, I know your eyes are tired.”

“I have to work.”

“The flexies.”

Hux felt as if nudged physically toward the refresher, his legs tensing as he held himself in place. He relented, feet moving him forward with little thought as to his purpose. Hands washed meticulously, Hux carefully pinched away the transpariflex lenses. He blinked into the blur of his reflection, frowning at the deep shadow the bright overhead lights cast over his features—he was a wraith haunting his own craft, too unmoved.

He rubbed his eyes, dying stars exploding against the backdrop of his lids, and slid his specs on. He felt heavy, the artificial gravity of the ship dropping down on his shoulders all at once.

“And?”

“Go to bed. Sleep.” Ren’s voice sounded clicks away, though only in the next room.

“You are dismissed, Ren.” Hux gripped the sink, his body swaying toward the door—toward the bed beyond. Gritting his teeth, he stayed in place until boot-fall finally rang out across the floor and his quarters fell silent once more.

Hux surrendered himself to sleep with something like relief.

 

***

 

A standard week slipped by.

Hux grew impossibly more gaunt, his hair gone stringy and limp. The scent of stale caf clung to him like gnats on a nerf, supply of vapor-cig cartridges exhausted. His irritability mounted and the bridge staff grew skittish.

“I want that Republic envoy in our tractors before the cycle is out.” Spittle flew over the console as Hux smashed his fingertips across the surface, calculating the distance they could cut with a jump into hyperspace in order to neatly intercept the new senator from Naboo.

Kylo hovered close, watching Hux plot out the next several hours on the screen in front of him. The Special Operations captain listened closely, drawing a path with her fingertip though the map on the display.

“General, may I interject?” Hux turned to regard Kylo with suspicion. The captain blanched, frozen with her fingertip pressed to the screen. Hux raised a brow, waiting. “I think this maneuver is unwise.”

“And why is that, Ren?” His voice was too calm, a dangerous cadence.

“This senator… he isn’t worth the effort. He’s a glorified holo-projection.”

“Then tell me what I should do, Ren, if holding their senator hostage doesn’t seem like a viable tactic to you.” Kylo remained silent, considering. Hux smacked a gloved palm against the console, startling the captain. “Tell me!”

His eyes darted over Kylo’s face, his cheeks flushing. _Please_. His mind grew loud with static, a piercing ring cutting through it.

Kylo reached forward, sliding out a file onto the display—an analysis of the system’s economy. “Reconsider the blockade. Their leadership isn’t what it once was—hasn’t been, since the Clone Wars. They won’t last long, and then you will have your system.”

“Very well.” Hux waved him away with the back of his hand.

“You will take a meeting at the end of your shift.” He phrased it like a question for the benefit of the crew.

The fine hairs on the back of Hux’s neck rose. His eyes ticked up from the console to realspace beyond the bridge viewport. “Fine. I will take a meeting.”

Hux hardly acknowledged Ren as he fell into step beside him, moving steadily toward the General’s quarters. They passed through the office and into the private rooms before he spoke. He stood with his forehead against the cool transparisteel of the viewport, one eye on Kylo. “You were right,” he huffed. “Though I’m sure you already knew that. The Naboo were already making tentative requests before I left the bridge.”

Kylo moved on quiet feet, depositing his helmet on the table and working his gloves off of his fingers meticulously.

“So say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever it is you’ve come to say.”

“Go take your flexies out.”

“I’m not playing this game again, Ren.”

“I’m not playing a game, either, Hux.” Kylo gestured toward the refresher. “Go.”

Hux frowned, resisting for a moment before complying. Kylo could feel it—the pushback against the gentle command sending out soft ripples in the Force between them and making the static wobble. He returned shortly, specs on and looking ruffled, gloves and jacket abandoned somewhere along the way.

“I don’t understand why—why we’re _losing_.”

Kylo pursed his lips, struggling to find words that wouldn’t smart. Not to spare Hux, but himself.

“I’m—“ He laughed, high and wheezy. “I’m _fucking_ exhausted.” His brows drew together and his lip lifted in an ugly twist.

Kylo drew in a deep breath. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes, steeling himself. “We are losing because I failed. I didn’t get the information from the pilot. I failed to get it from the girl. I let the droid go. If I’d pressed harder—if I’d gotten what I needed from Dameron—the traitor wouldn’t have had the chance to wreak the destruction he did. You would still have _Starkiller_. I would be well on my way to finding Skywalker instead of sitting on my thumbs while my master devises some sham of final test to complete my training.”

Hux batted his hand away when Kylo reached out. “You _disgust_ me. That I have even entertained the idea of giving you any kind of— _disgusting_.”

Kylo’s face grew warm. He continued. “I cannot change any of what has happened. But I can attempt to ease your burden. You’ve neglected yourself completely. I thought, perhaps foolishly, that you might’ve taken my _concerns_ to heart. What is happening now is as much your fault for this as it is mine for putting us on this path.”

Static swelled, screaming through the Force and echoing around in the confines of Hux’s skull. His mouth worked over unspoken words and his eyes cast down at the floor, unfocused and wild. Anger radiated off of him in waves.

“Stop trying to control _everything_. Stop sacrificing yourself.”

“I am all I have left to sacrifice.”

“Take your boots off.”

“Careful, Ren—“

“Your boots.” He watched Hux sit on the edge of the bed and work the fitted boots off of his calves. He placed them down precisely at the corner of the bed and looked at Kylo with an eye for murder. “I’ll stop whenever you want me to.” He paused, the static grew close. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hux shook his head once, sharply.

“Then socks next, I think. Do you have a washcloth?”

“In the ‘fresher.”

Kylo issued soft commands while he ran the cloth beneath the weak stream of warm water from the tap. Hux was sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, when Kylo returned. Though the room was warm, gooseflesh dimpled his bare skin in the moon-glow.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

“ _No_.”

“Take this, then.” Hux did, compelled. “I presume you know what to do with it.”

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Hux scrubbed his face with the cloth and then ran in through his bends and joins. He held it back out to Kylo, full of distain, when finished.

“You will go to sleep.”

Hux struggled, lips pursed, before slipping across the mattress and under the regulation bedding. “I will go to sleep.”

 

***

 

Hux’s pallor lessened.

His cheeks filled in.

The feel of him relaxing into the pull of the Force, as if falling from a great height into dark water, was an overwhelming thing.

The static arranged itself into _order_ and Order began to win.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this scratches that itch, HYU. This isn't _at all_ what I set out to write, but it is what appeared on the page and I truly hope you enjoy it.
> 
> [yell at me over here on the sw tumblr.](http://avaahren.tumblr.com)  
>  and please to drop me a comment below and make my day <3


End file.
